


Heart of the Beast

by UltraVioletSoul



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Japanese Mythology - Freeform, Kinda..., OOC, Reader Insert, heavy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltraVioletSoul/pseuds/UltraVioletSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple life with someone you loved was all you’d ever wanted but, when you find out you’re to become the mistress of a cruel lord, all hopes for dreams are gone. Denying his request would mean death for your father and only a miracle could save you from this fate— the hand of a god— but how likely is that to happen?</p>
<p>[[ Raiden x F!Reader ]]</p>
<p>Heavy AU.</p>
<p>ON HOLD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How has this never been done before? Or more importantly, why there aren’t more reader inserts for Raiden? I guess people don’t wish to break the canon and have him leave Rose and his son, and I understand that because I don’t really feel comfortable with the idea either. But guess what? We have those wonderful alternative universes! I just thought it would be fun playing around with some ideas, and I wrote the draft for this fic almost a year ago though it’s still incomplete. I’ve been meaning to post it for a long time, but I wanted to finish my other Raiden fic first… and I wanted to finish my Sub-Zero fic too but it’s going to be a while before I do that. 
> 
> And before you ask, no, Rose won’t be a part of this story so you don’t have to worry, in case you were fearful of that since Not Your Kind Of People didn’t end well.
> 
> This is a heavy AU of Japanese mythology, and… yes, I think you already know what’s going to be Raiden’s role here. As you may know, Raiden, or originally Raijin, is the Japanese god of thunder so I thought it would be fun to write something about that. I’ll take some artistic licenses here, so I apologize if it’s not true to the real Japanese mythology, customs and/or history. Perhaps the only recognizable character is going to be Raiden, but there will be other characters from Metal Gear too. We’ll get to that later, however.

  
**Warnings:**

Unbetaed work. Heavy AU. The story may not make sense, at first.

* * *

It was another afternoon that you spent in the shrine, after fulfilling your chores around the house, praying to the god of thunder for a good harvest. It was well known among farmers that whenever he decided to strike the fields of rice with lightning that people was blessed with a great reaping. It was even said that he was the one who fertilized the first field of rice after his sister, the sun goddess, gifted the grains to your people and taught them to sow the earth. Therefore, it wasn't strange that they would travel to his shrines in the high mountains and make offers to him at the beginning of every year.

Despite his terrifying appearance, and the stories elders told their children about Raiden eating their navels, the temperamental deity was considered a good kami. Even so, he still was very much feared among people. Whenever someone spoke about him, they did so with the utmost respect, for fear his brother Futen could carry their words in the wind to him and enrage the mighty god with their insolence.

After you made obeisance in front of the torii gate to the spirit world, you walked to the side of the path, knowing that the center area was specifically reserved for him and only him to come and go as he pleased. It was your way to show politeness and humbleness before someone who wielded so much power— respect, more than anything. Head bowed down, you approached the water pavilion and took a wooden dipper in your hand, filling it to perform the purifying ritual before paying respects. 

A hand rinsed the other, then you poured some water in your mouth without touching the dipper. Disposing of it on a side, you used the remaining water to rinse the ladle off and put it back in its place. It was a ritual you had grown to practice almost every day, having been taught by your mother who had been an avid worshiper of Raiden while she was still alive. After you finished, you felt ready to near the altar, placing your offering before the kami— rice enclosed in paper. Bowing and clapping your hands twice, you showed your joy of meeting with him to express your gratitude and closed your eyes.

The stillness of the place made you enjoy the moment, as you listened to your own thoughts and all the distant sounds around you. You thanked him for his generosity asked for him to bless your people with sufficient harvest to keep everyone fed. His storms were associated with rain and, to this effect, rain rituals were held in his honor every spring and summer at shrines dedicated to him. Some included special dances, fires lit on the top of mountains, and chants. But the most important aspect of it were the giant drums that were struck to imitate the sound of thunder very, an aspect deep rooted in the ceremony itself, and the long gigantic dragon made of bamboo and straw that many men bravely carried. It was all very much entertaining, and you remembered looking forward to it every year.

Still, Raiden’s nature was pretty much that of calamity, as his unpredictability indicated. His temperament was quick, too, as shown when he found his beast of thunder, Raiju, sleeping on people's bellies during storms. This stirred the god's wrath, when his familiar wasn’t performing its duties, and it was doom for the poor souls that unwittingly had the creature dozing inside of them. 

Raiju, who sometimes took the form of a wolf, was mostly harmless in good weather, often acting as the messenger of the god it served in his affairs of the spirit world. When it rained, however, it became restless and aggressive, hopping from tree to tree, in fields and to buildings, as it grew excited over the work of his master. Its strong claws pierced and burned the trunk of the trees, sometimes completely destroying them, and its cries were like thunder.

Unfortunately, those exertions sometimes left it exhausted and it was keen on finding shelter in people's navels, slumbering longer than Raiden would have liked— much to the latter's chagrin. Its master often struck it with lightning, causing the demon to wake up with a start and the mortal… well, you never heard of someone who lived to tell the late. For this reason, many people slept on their bellies during a storm, burned incense to keep Raiju away, or protected themselves with mosquitoes nets, though your mother had told you Raiju only hid in the navels of those that slept outdoors. 

As you finished your prayers, you bowed once more to bid farewell to the god. Heading out to the torii gate, you took special notice of the fiendish-looking statues on each side of the path, both representing Raiden and his brother Futen— the deities that held terrible power over nature and protected the gates to the spirit world. Stories about the brothers said that, when the world was first created by their parents Inazami and Izanagi, Futen opened his bag and let the winds come out, clearing the morning mist so the sun could shine upon the lands, and that later Raiden took it upon himself to create the first storm that made the earth bountiful.

There were other legends in which Raiden and Futen were demons that opposed the creation and sought to destroy it, but they were defeated and captured by the army of heavens, later becoming gods after they repented. Perhaps old habits died hard, seeing as terrible tempests still came about the world whenever Raiden and Futen felt like holding a contest in the skies. It was terrifying listening to Raiden's wrath in the raucous thunder as Futen's wind howled, and they sometimes wiped out entire communities, much to the dismay of some clans that started to turn their backs on them and sought other deities to worship. 

But they were necessary to everyone. Without rains and storms there would be no reaping, and without them there would be no way to subsist. Besides, what did a mere mortal knew about the matters of the gods?

“I'm home,” you announced to no one in particular as you made your way inside your dwelling. Your house was not much but at least you and your family had a roof over your head, and that was more than you could ask for. It was actually nice and you treasured your home with its little stream outside that always lulled you to sleep every night. You very much enjoyed spending time there, dipping your feet in the water as you tended to some simple needle work your aunt needed to deliver. You also invested time tending your little garden, so you could sell the flowers that the daughters of nobles found so enchanting.

Seeing them in their fine clothes and beautiful makeup sometimes made you wish you could have a life like that, pampered with the luxuries of life. Just sometimes. You knew that their lives weren't easy, as they were required to be perfect in every sense, and you thought that would be too much pressure for someone like you. More often than not they were married off to men they didn't even love, for the sake of their family's benefit, and when you thought of that you didn't feel envious of not having been born into a noble family. For all the lack of noble blood in your veins, at least you retained some control in your life and you didn't think your father would force you to marry someone you didn't want as husband. 

That certainly had to be better than living in a gilded cage.

Rushing to the bedroom you shared with your little siblings, you intended to rest a bit before heading for the fields of rice to tend the crops with other people of your village. However, as you crossed the room and headed for your futon, out of the corner of your eye you noticed a silhouette sitting on the floor as a voice greeted you with warmth. You shouldn't have been as jumpy as you were, but the unexpectedness had surprised. 

Collecting yourself, you turned around and bowed. “Good afternoon, father.” 

The man was seated before a low table, overlooking the small garden you had grown, and his back was turned to you. You found it a bit odd, since you thought he would be taking a nap by now. “Please, join me for a while,” he offered and you shyly approached, almost waiting to be scolded for something despite the amenability in his words. Hesitant, you approached and sat down by his side, your eyes nearly bulging when he grabbed the wooden bottle and poured two cups of sake. You hadn't been allowed to drink until now and, honestly, the reason left you worried now for you suspected something was going on.

“Was there something you needed, father?” you began, seeing as he was calmly drinking without any attempts at engaging in conversation with you. Still, a smile came to your lips as you grabbed the wooden cup and brought it to your nose. “Why all of a sudden are you letting me drink this? I thought it wasn't proper of a girl."

“But you're not a little girl anymore.” At this statement, your eyes went wide and you nearly spilled the drink on your lap, catching yourself just in time. Undeterred by your panic, he proceeded after he took another sip of sake while you could not even think of tasting it for the first time. “My daughter, it's time for us to speak.”

“A-about what?” You gulped, lowering your gaze as a sudden heat burned your cheeks. 

“Your future, of course,” he stated matter-of-factly, holding his head high as he stared right into your eyes. Despite what he had said, about you not being a little girl anymore, you still felt like a child before him— so small and powerless. 

“My future?” You couldn't help but feel so stupid as you repeated those words, placing the ochoko on the table without even having a taste of it. Hiding your hands in your sleeves, you avoided his gaze and settled on the sight beyond the shoji doors that were wide open, allowing the soft stream of wind in. “What about it?”

You were wishing any of your siblings would barge in and interrupt the moment, but it wasn't to be. Surely your father had warned them not to interfere, and somehow they had disappeared leaving you lonely and defenseless. The man knew better now, for in the past his youngest children had been your excuse to avoid this discussion and now there was nothing you could do but sit back and listen to him. 

“It's time to find you a suitable man.”

And it came before you could stop it, before you could think better against your actions. “But father, what are you saying? I don't want to marry yet. I want to stay here with you, with our family. Why do you mean to send me away like this? Who's going to take care of my siblings if I'm gone?”

However, he stopped you with a wave of his hand and you were forced to fall silent, embarrassed of your reaction. “I won't be here forever to watch over you. I'm getting old with every day that passes and my strength is waning. You need a man in your life. I want to see you well cared for, I want grandchildren before I depart this world.”

Well, who said only noble women had to live with all that pressure of social expectations? While you would have liked to find a man, fall in love, and start a family, to be technically forced into it reduced it to nothing— made it lose its meaning. Yes, you had simple dreams for life because this was all that you knew, but you wanted it to be special as it would happen only once in a lifetime. The person with whom you would spend the rest of your life should be carefully chosen, and you still had not taken the time to find a proper candidate, being too busy with your family obligations. You were the eldest, after all, and a mother to your siblings since your own passed away during the birth of your youngest brother, whom had died soon afterwards. In a way, it felt selfish that he would ask you such a thing after his wife had such a sad fate.

“But I still haven't met anyone,” you whispered with shame. Most girls your age were already married or getting married and here you were, trying to be the pillar of your family in the absence of your mother. It was the only thing you had done for the past years, so it was no wonder you still had not found a man that would make you feel something remotely close to attraction, let alone love. 

“The truth is,” his tone turned cautious, as your hands balled into fists on your lap and your nails dug in your palms, “a man in an important position has requested your company.”

 _Company?_ That could only mean one thing! He didn't have in mind for you to get married at all. You were to be the concubine of some man you didn't know. You'd be taken away and into his house with several of his other women, to serve him until he grew tired of you. Such a thing was unthinkable, and you didn't even want to contemplate the idea of becoming a mistress, treated as a simple tool of satisfaction, devoid of love and dreams.

“Are you listening to what you're saying, father?” you pleaded, feeling a knot in your throat. “Is that the future you want for me? Don't I deserve something better? Don't you think I deserve happiness?”

“Of course you deserve the best, and this is my chance to ensure that. He is rich and powerful. He can give you a much better life than any other man in this village could ever hope to.” His hand patted your hair and you still avoided his eyes, fearing that you would lose your composure if you looked up. “Just imagine what he can offer. Remember when you spoke about those lovely noblewomen in the market? You, like those young ladies, could be wearing jewels and clothes of the finest silk—” 

“I don't want any of that,” you choked, taking a deep breath. “Father, I want to marry out of love. It matters little if we are poor, but I would rather choose that over an empty and frivolous life. I won't mean anything to him, and my children will only be bastards that will have no place in his family. Pray tell me, what kind of life do you intend to leave for me?”

Finally, after a long silence his brown eyes watered as he poured himself another cup of sake, drinking eagerly from it before another followed. That was something that worried you, as his drinking habit seemed to have become more chronic as of late.

“I can't keep the truth from you anymore. I beg your forgiveness, my beloved child,” he began as he crawled to your side and bowed deep before you. “I beg your compassion.” “Father, what are you doing? Stop it. Don't do it, please. Get up,” you sobbed, knowing fully well that you would not be able to say no.

With his forehead atop his hands, he remained immobile and you were growing desperate by the moment, feeling distressed and scared of what he would confess. “I should have told you long before this happened, but I didn't have the heart to do so. Our family is indebted for a great deal in rice. The taxes keep rising and rising and we're unable to make enough to pay our lord for the protection he gives us. But if you would accept him, he's willing to forgive us.”

“Lord Shokura?” The dread in your voice could not be hidden, as you recalled his recent visit to his estate, which was been a rarity that had attracted attention since he was often away in the capital. He was an man who wasn't precisely known for his compassion, and was among the most feared shugos overseeing a large amount of land for the current shogun. 

“Yes.” Your father was still bowed, as though he wished to avoid your tearful gaze. “I'm so sorry I have to ask this of you, but our very lives depend on it. You know how unforgiving the lord can be. It hurts me to tell you this, but I couldn't oppose to his wish when he saw you and found you to be pleasant to his eyes."

“But can't we find another way? I can work hard with my aunt to make clothes. I'm sure she'll help if I ask her. I can find something new to do, something that would give us the chance to pay our debt. I'm not afraid of that. I'll work day and night if it's necessary.” There had to be some way around this. You couldn't simply accept that this would be the end, that if you refused your family would suffer the consequences. 

“Your intentions are good, but I'm afraid it's more gold than we can ever dream to see in our lives. I would never ask you this if there was another option, but we have nothing left. Forgive me, daughter, but I beg you to consider the future of your siblings. Don't do this for me but for them.” 

“Father, stop.” Tears poured from your eyes as your hands grabbed his shoulders and tried to get him to rise, but he wouldn't budge. “Please.” 

No matter how much you cursed your fate, you knew your duty was to your family— that the life of a woman was marked by sacrifice. That evening you didn't go to the fields of rice to tend the crops, for you remained crying yourself to sleep in your futon as you lamented your ill fortune. Perhaps other women would have felt honored and lucky at being chosen by a man such important standing, but it wasn't your case. This was not the kind of life you wanted, but you had to accept it for the sake of your family.

Still, you hid your tears from your siblings, pretending everything was alright and that there was nothing to worry about. How could you be so cruel and not think about them? If you refused to accept being the lord's mistress, then everything would be lost and you would be to blame. Shokura wasn't a merciful soul. He was cruel and vengeful. But if there was a way out of this predicament, you needed to at least try and have faith.

So the next day you hurried to the shrine, paid your respects and prayed. “Oh Master of Thunder and Lightning, I come before you today to beg you turn your divine gaze to this humble soul. I'm aware my grief is of little matter when compared to the suffering of others, and that it's my duty to do as I'm told for the good of my family, but if you would take pity on me and spare me from this burden I would forever be in debt with you.”

Your mornings were filled with chores you obediently performed, cleaning around the house, preparing the food, and doing the laundry. Your father tended the crops in the morning while you stayed home, caring for your siblings until the afternoon when you went to the fields. 

As you concentrated in the task at hand, you tried to hide your sadness and engaged in conversation with some of your friends, hearing the most recent events and the rumors about war with the Mongol empire in the north.

Unfortunately, the lord had decided to ride on his horse through his fief and you felt your heart strain in anxiety. As he made his way with his men, not caring at all if the hard work of your people went to waste, his white hair shone in the sun. Clad in his red armor, he gave off a very much intimidating aura, as he rode past everyone, and you attempted to hide behind the rice leaves, making yourself as small as possible so as not to attract any attention upon you.

Gods knew that you wanted to disappear from the face of earth when he saw you and his gaze lingered on you for longer than was considered comfortable, or appropriate for a man in his position. It was no use feigning ignorance, no use hiding, and you could only hope there was an escape as you bowed to the lord and watched as he passed, holding your breath the whole time.

And then you decided that you would pray that day again, and the day after that, and the day after that. It was better to believe that there still was hope instead of living with none.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I would write an alternative ending to my other fic and, believe me, I’m trying. To be honest, I just want to get away from NYKOP for some time because I spent too much time writing it and I kind of reached a point in which I got a little tired of it. I had a one-shot sequel planned but I’ll be leaving that for later, too. 
> 
> So, I said that some Metal Gear characters would appear in this story, although they’ll be referenced by other names for obvious reasons.
> 
> First, Futen is meant to be Jetstream Sam because I thought it would be fitting. Besides, I think there was a story about Futen chopping off one of Raiden’s arms, which is similar to that time Sam cut Raiden’s arm in MGR. Second, Raiju is meant to be Bladewolf to some extent although I’m not really sure. And third, lord Shokura is… Monsoon, but I just couldn’t name him lord Monsoon although that would have been hilarious. Shokura is said to be a character in the Japanese mythology, though there was very little information I could find about him so I’m taking some liberties again.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Now glossary:
> 
> Ochoko: cup for sake. 
> 
> Shugo: it was a title, commonly translated as "governor", "protector" or "constable", given to certain officials in feudal Japan. They were each appointed by the Shogun to oversee one or more of the provinces of Japan.
> 
> Shogun: de facto ruler of Japan, though officially he was appointed by the emperor.
> 
> Kami: spirit worshipped in the religion of Shinto. Kamis are elements in nature, animals, forces in the universe, or spirits of revered deceased.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and that this wasn't too bad. Feedback is appreciated!


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter! Although I'm afraid the chapters in this story will be shorter than the ones I delivered in NYKOP. I just don't wish to make this fic too long, for my sake and yours. I have to attend classes and I'm rather short on time ;A; I'll also try to update as often as I can. 
> 
> I'm happy with the positive reception of this fic so far. Hope you enjoy it c: 
> 
> As I mentioned before, some MG characters make an appearance here, and Jetstream Sam is one of them. I'm sure you've already figured out who he is in this story. Without further ado, on to the chapter!
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Warnings:**
> 
> OOC. Mentions of violence and gore. Unbetaed work. English is not my native language. Not historically accurate, sorry.

**Part II**

Raiden wasn't in the mood for this kind of affairs today.

Sighing for the umpteenth time, he sulked as the _sumi_ brush soaked in black ink slid against the parchment on the low table he was seated at. Perhaps, the problem was that he had hardly been in the mood for anything after centuries of the same routine: creating storms for the mortals so they could grow their crops, or sitting around answering to petitions for health and fortune. 

Of course those would be the most common prayers, aside from prosperous harvest every year during the rain rituals— which he had witnessed a few times out of sheer curiosity. There was something amusing about the whole experience, pretending to be a simple traveler that had come to worship the spirit of thunder. Disguised as an old man, no one would notice his presence as he sneaked in the crowd. 

He took no part in the celebrations, since he wasn't as vain as his brother to worship himself among mortals. Instead, Raiden remained in the sidelines and watched the scene unfold whilst he drank sake— the drink of the gods. He found it entertaining, to some extent, watching as humans went about their merriment w. Most people would not even glance twice his way, but it served his purpose as it was not his intention being exposed. However, he remembered that once a little girl who couldn't have been older than five at the time saw him and approached him. With a sweet smile, she offered him some _narezushi_ and, after he accepted her gift, she happily skidded to her mother’s side. 

She probably was an old woman by now.

It was actually curious he recalled this, now of all times. His mind was wandering away into details and memories that weren't useful in his endeavors to get his obligations done.

Returning to the task at hand, he found himself immersing into it again before a sudden roll of thunder outside brought the reminiscence of old days. The truth was, he hadn't always been like this, a god that spent time overseeing the natural order of his domain. Quite on the contrary, his early days had brought the violence of his wrath, had seen the deep-rooted perversion in his soul when he'd enjoyed the death and carnage. From the moment he was born from the rotting corpse of his mother, in the land of the dead, his nature had been that of destruction and bloodlust.

Raiden had been the instrument of his mother's pain and anger. He chased her husband when the great god saw his wife was no longer the beautiful graceful creature she once was. His father had rejected his mother, and it caused her grief when he abandoned her and never looked back. So she unleashed him to the world, and his reign of terror threw the land into chaos. A thousand souls a day, she had requested and so her son delivered her wish faithfully.

The brush slipped from his hand as he recalled the taste and smell of blood, and he felt a pang of remorse at the longing that was born in his heart. Surely he could not be having such thoughts after all this time. Before he could even stop and collect himself, his familiar rushed into the room without ceremony or apology, a ball of lightning in that barely managed to skid to a stop before him. The interruption did not upset him as it would have in other occasions, but Raiden inwardly groaned as the beast lay another bag full of scrolls on the floor. 

“I can't be the only one they pray to...” he muttered as his blue eyes observed the stain of ink that had blotted the paper, feeling a bit more sullen than usual at the realization he would have to start all over again.

“Or maybe you are the only one that listens to their petitions for good fortune,” Raiju was quick to counter, prompting a raised eyebrow from his master. It did not escape anyone's notice that Raiden seemed to be too invested in his role, being one of the protectors of the spirit world, and that he had not left this place in years. When was the last time he stepped outside to breathe in the fresh air of dawn, or listen to the song of water and the whispers of the green leaves? 

He almost missed the good old days, when there was no boundaries nor duties— yearned for them, when he was a free to indulge in the callings of his soul. But bound to his duty as a god he remained, and he chose to hide himself from the creation he'd once soiled, nearly destroyed. In many ways, his past ashamed him but there were times he wished he could taste that kind of freedom once again, listen to the cravings that his demon had been whispering from the deep recesses of his mind for a long time.

“Who else is going to do it.” It wasn't a question, but a statement that he asserted. “It's not like I have a choice. I still haven't made amends for my mistakes.” How many more ages until he could finally forget and be forgiven? The burden of the souls he had reaped was still heavy, and he was required to compensate for it— a task that was easier said than done.

His pale fingers brushed against the new stack of scrolls Raiju had brought, leaving the stained writing aside for the moment. Raiden was quite grateful this was the last one to be delivered, as he extended the paper over the wooden table and took a look at its contents. 

This particular shrine was small, located in a village. There weren't many people that came to pray everyday so the shrine spirit didn't have that many petitions to send to the god of thunder. Raiden knew it was probably the same old thing, with people requesting for good harvest and fortune, but he wanted to assess how much there was left to do. With sake cup in hand, his gaze swiftly swept over the missive, expression uninterested as he enjoyed the taste of the sweet pervasive spirit.

His eyes narrowed when he reached a certain line, and regarded it for a few seconds as though he considered the possibility of some mistake. He never thought that, at this point, something could leave him perplexed and at a loss for words yet here he was, wide-eyed reading the prayer of some woman who begged him to stop her lord from taking her as his mistress. Was this not the luck most women in the middle country of reed beds aspired to have? Why would this mortal even ask such a thing from him anyways?

“What do I look like? The god of love?” he grunted, shaking his head. His demon-like portrayal should have been enough for people to draw the conclusion he most certainly wasn't. Love and all things fair were the territory of the goddess Benzaiten, not his. He had no business in the matters of the heart, neither did he have his sister's eloquence or the wisdom of her words. If she'd granted the qualities that made this mortal desirable to her lord, and bestowed good fortune upon her family, then who he was to undo the goddess's blessing?

“The god she has faith in, perhaps.” Raiju sat and rested, his red eyes glowing as they looked fixedly at his master. “This human seems to possess a vast devotion for you.”

“My influence doesn't reach the hearts of men.” He kept on reading, but stumbled upon more of the insistent words and pleas that had seemed to increase over time, not limiting the amount to a prayer per day but several times. “It's not my place to decide."

“"She only wishes to be free of a cruel man that believes is entitled to her life,” the wolf-shaped creature admitted, his voice like thunder in the silence of the god's dwelling, high in the skies. 

“And how would you know?” It was odd, to be honest, that Raiju could be familiar with a human's distress no less. His duty was that of being a messenger of the god, and while he kept him updated about the events in the plain of high heaven and the world below, there was nothing that forced him to keep tabs on a mere mortal.

“I have observed her for a long time now, out of curiosity at her perseverance in her prayers throughout the years. She is one of the few people I know that dutifully remembers her debt to the gods, and honors them everyday— not only when she needs something in return. Still, she does not seem to do it out of obligation but rather with genuine bliss. I am surprised you have missed that detail.”

“Spying on humans has become another pastime of yours?” Raiden sounded almost irked, as he rolled the scroll and picked another from the bag, inspecting it with a little wariness “I see it's not sleeping on them anymore."

At this, Raiju looked away and lay on the wooden floor, snorting as he closed his eyes. “Her navel looks cozy, but I am afraid you would strike her with lightning if I were to rest on it. I would rather you do not do that.”

“Whose navel is cozy?” a male voice asked, though there was no one to be seen around. Still, Raiden sensed the powerful energy in the air as some of his ash-blond locks of hair fluttered suddenly. Eyes narrowing at the intrusion, irritation took over when the wind blew harder and the fusuma doors began to shake, as petals from the cherry blossom outside fell. The pink floral leaves rippled to his feet and scattered all over the room, at the same time a figure materialized practically out of thin air. 

“Oh, am I happy to see you here, brother,” Raiden greeted with dry zeal, once the wind settled, taking another drink from his cup of sake. 

“Brother dear, you're quite the sight today.” Futen, the god of wind, taunted with a smirk as he combed the messy locks of dark hair out of his hazel eyes with a wave of his hand. “I shouldn't have been absent for so long, spreading the winds to every corner of the world. Hope you didn't miss me much.”

“Like I have nothing better to do.” The blue-eyed deity countered without as much as a hint of amusement, seizing the brush and getting back to his labor with diligent concentration. “What do you want? I have much to do.”

“Your insensitive words hurt me so," Futen said with feigned pain, placing a hand on his heart as he frowned with sadness. He was mocking him, Raiden knew that very well and so he ignored him, at least until Futen was willing to have a decent conversation. “Here I was hoping to visit my dear little brother, and this is the welcome I get? It's nice to know you're so hospitable to your guests.” Dressed in his light green kimono, his haori of a darker green shade swayed as he moved about the chamber to the corner Raiju lay. “What happened, my friend? Were you talking about some young lady? Is she the reason why your master is being an old crank? Though now that I think about it, he's been always like that...” 

"I can hear you, you know?" Raiden scoffed while Raiju opened his red eyes and happily flapped his tail but didn't reply, perhaps out of respect for the thunder god. 

"Alright, my bad." Futen simply raised his hands in a shrug as he turned to his brother once more. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance to you, if some lady has made her way into your heart? You have your big brother to give you advice.”

“Don't get strange ideas. I'm not interested in anyone, at all. It's just a human woman requesting my help in the matters of love.” 

For a moment there was silence, and Raiden thought that Futen had vanished without a trace, as he often would do leaving him talking to himself. When he looked up, he saw the brawny _kami_ stare at him with a look of surprise and disbelief on his face, a soft breeze waving the two loose locks of hair on his forehead that could not be held in the high ponytail he sported. 

He knew what his brother was thinking. He was actually prepared for the reaction. Still, when Futen roared in laughter Raiden could not help but hide his hands inside the sleeves of his blue silky robes, giving him a glare. He gritted his teeth, watching his older brother cackle until he was practically rolling on the floor. Some time passed before Futen began to calm down and sat on the tatami with one leg bent, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Ah, I don't think I've laughed so much in centuries! What's this all about?” Futen faded a moment from sight and then reappeared by Raiden's side, though his proximity did not faze the latter in the least. The brunette god was leaning against the low table, sitting cross-legged on one of the spare navy blue cushions embroidered in gold. Raiden could clearly see out of the corner of his eye that his brother was supporting his chin with a hand, giving him an impish smile. “Why would someone think of asking that from _you_?”

Raiden growled the words under his breath, already irritated. “Beats me.”

“Haven't they heard tales about us, the powerful gods that nearly obliterated the world? We're not here to instill passion and infatuation in the hearts of humans. We instill fear, and despair—”

“Not anymore,” Raiden corrected, earning the god of wind's chagrin at those words.

“We _still_ do. The winds and the storms don't rule themselves, if not by our hand. Mortals would do well in fearing the power we still hold over their lives,” Futen deadpanned with a seriousness that Raiden didn't expect but, as quick as the shadow of dread appeared, it was gone. “You're right, however. Times change, and we too are affected. Still, sometimes I miss the old days when we fought. It gave me something fun to do, at least.” He placed a hand over his mouth to muffle a yawn and threw Raiden a bored look.

“Do you miss chopping my limbs off, too?” Raiden grumbled, pouring another cup of sake for himself as Futen found entertainment checking out a scroll from the pile. The dark-haired god soon stopped and regarded his younger brother with a raised eyebrow, dropping the scripture unceremoniously and crossing his arms. 

“Bad manners, as always. I see some old habits die hard.” Futen observed with interest and amusement, mischief patent in his gaze. “You still hold it against me after all these ages, huh? I thought we made peace when our sister who shines in the heaven gave you back your arm.”

“You don't sound or look the least bit sorry about that.” Raiden glared and his brother simply shrugged, dismissing the matter.

“To be honest, I'm not.” Futen chuckled, extending his arm in time for a sake cup to land in the palm of his hand. “You were a little trouble maker, back then, and caused a lot of mischief. As your older brother, it was my job to beat some sense into that dense head of yours.”

Trouble maker would have been an understatement, truth be told. Those times had been difficult and brutal. They had battled once for the claim of the skies, and their confrontations had brought nothing but grief and loss to those who suffered the rage of storms and unforgiving gales. Neither of them had cared, however, and the power of their natural forces grew to the point of nearly wiping life from the world.

Raiden had done many awful things in the past, moved by the hatred of his mother— crimes that did not make him proud today. He had been nothing more than a wild demon, slaughtering left and right, claiming ownership over this land and its lives as their lord. Pain, suffering, had been his reasons to destroy all that her mother's husband had once held dear. Mortals had feared him beyond reason, and he laughed at their weakness, relished in his violent nature— found pleasure in the screams of horror, the pleads for mercy, the gurgles of agony as life faded from their bodies.

How could he miss such a barbaric life? Perhaps the pollution from the land of the dead can't be fully cleansed, and it still remained with him. Or maybe he was inherently wicked, deep down, though he didn't wish to find out.

“So what about this girl?” Futen poured himself some of the honjozo-shu rice wine and turned his gaze to the sight of the colorful trees in blossom and the springs of clear water. “What lovelorn matters could she possibly be crying about?”

“She's being forced to be with a man she doesn't want.” He didn't have to go into further detail, didn't wish to, seeing as the matter wasn't any of his concern. “And unless she wants me to strike the man with lightning one of these days, then she'd be better off praying to someone else."

“Heard that she's quite devotional of you and prays to you every day? Wow, didn't know you had admirers.” Futen smirked, resting his chin on his free hand again as he gave his younger brother one of his typically playful looks. “If I were you, I'd be curious at the very least. She must be a beauty if she's caught the eye of her lord. Those noblemen have a fascination for fair maidens. Can't blame them, though. I've too fallen for their charms a few times.”

Raiden rolled his eyes at those words. Of course Futen wouldn't keep his hands to himself. "Well, seems you already know the whole story. It shouldn’t surprise me."

The god of wind shrugged, having another taste of the crystalline drink before sighing with contentment. "Of course I do. You must know by now that the words are carried by the wind,” he explained, laughing under his breath whilst Raiden's expression turned into that of vexation and mistrust. 

“Really, I don't have time for this.” 

“ _Bah_ , you used to be so much fun before. When was the last time we sparred a little? Don't you get bored all on your own here?” At this Raiju snorted, offended at the statement, and Futen had to raise his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that but, seriously brother, you spend way too much time in this place without even a companion to keep you entertained these days."

The suggestive undertones of Futen's words did not go unnoticed and Raiden's hand trembled, the brush threatening to slip from his fingers again. The wind blew between them, quiet and soft, bringing the perfume of life and peace but his thoughts were turmoiled, troubled, as recollections played in his mind suddenly.

No more of that.

“I'm fine.” His voice did not give him away, but he feared his eyes would betray him if he so as much looked at the god of wind.

“Alright, then, little brother. I'll leave you to your duties but, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And like the wind, Futen was gone.

* * *

So far, nothing had happened that would make the lord desist but you still had hopes. Unfortunately, time was something you didn't have and the pressure that it put on you had become really stressful. It didn't help the fact that the lord had chosen to visit the fields, accompanied by his guards, almost every afternoon. Mounted on his horse, he would ride with his head high and long white hair trailing after him under the Sun. And while you still hadn't given an answer to your father's plea, you were scared that the lord would decide to simply take you away.

Lord Shokura was young and had inherited the position from his father, who had chosen to depart to the capital so the authority of his son wouldn't be undermined, years ago. He'd married the daughter of a another lord during a truce between their parents, when he was only fifteen and she was fourteen, and rumors said there was little love between them. 

At first he had been struck by her beauty, and described her in the likeness of a goddess, but the thrill soon died when she was unable to bear him a child. The lord's interests were placed elsewhere, namely in the concubines he kept, and the lady's bed was left empty and cold. His lovers bore him several sons and daughters and his wife was humiliated by his growing harem, her barren womb, and her supposedly act of spying. Her father had also died during a coup in his province, so her worth as wife had subsequently diminished.

If truth be told, you felt pity for her because she'd been led to an unhappy life, used and abandoned. You didn't want the same future for you. Still, while you had no desire to become one of his many mistresses, your family would suffer dire consequences if you refused. You were between a rock and a hard place, and you weren't sure how this could be solved unless some kind of miracle happened. 

You had to keep your spirits high. You needed to have faith that He would answer your pleas, somehow. You only hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

As you tended to the rice crops, you couldn't help but have this unsettling feeling in your stomach. When you heard the sound of approaching horses, you knew there was no escape.

“Oh, no,” you whispered panicked, as you watched the lord stop his horse and focus his gaze on your crouched form. This was what you had feared and, despite you tried to avoid his eyes, he didn't waste time to put you in a difficult situation. One would have thought that as a married man he would have a bit more decorum in public, but that didn't seem to be the case here.

“What is this? A flower blossoming before me, surrounded by mud and dirt. Who decided this would be her appropriate place?” At his words, you lowered your gaze and remained silent, bowing before him as a reflex movement rather than a genuine gesture. What were you to do now? You just hoped he would find you uninteresting once you didn't fall for his charms, unlikable, and be on his way.

Unfortunately, Shokura had other plans when he dismounted and neared you with slow but firm steps. Everything about him exuded confidence, regality, and you backed off in fear and uncertainty. He was here to take you away, and you knew there was nothing you could do. Even if you refused to be at his mercy, you would be powerless before his might.

“Afraid of your lord, girl?” He chuckled at your nervousness, tilting his head. Even now, he wanted to make it clear that he was your superior, that he was above you. You were a simple source of amusement for him, and he would find you pleasing for as long as you could keep him entertained. “Keep me company for a while. I'm in the mood for a walk today.”

"My lord, I'm afraid I'm not dressed properly for the occasion. Someone as lowly as me shouldn't have the honor of being seen by your side."

He chuckled and placed a hand under your chin to lift your face. "It's me who decides what is proper, do you understand? Now come with me."

There were few options for you and complying sounded like the most sensible choice. No one in their right mind would say not to him, and you weren't exactly on the brink of insanity. Then again, the idea that he could get to share a few moments with you made you wish that he would see just how unpleasant you were. You'd worked in the fields for a while, too, so you weren't exactly looking your best. If he desisted of that idea, the only thing you'd have to worry about is how to pay off the debt.

Perhaps you should take it one step at a time.

His men followed close, but far enough to give their lord privacy with you. Traversing the expanse of green farmland, the wind blew softly against your face. In the distance, black clouds were gathering and you prayed to Raiden it would rain soon, so Shokura would be forced to leave.

Was he listening to you?

“Such a delicate constitution like yours is not fit for the hard work in the fields.” He surely didn't waste time, and you tried to keep your distance with him, avoiding eye contact all the while.

“I’ve managed well for the past years, my lord. Me and many women, as well, all throughout many generations.” You could only hope you were being subtle but, as anxious as you were feeling, there was no way you could tell if he was hiding his displeasure or you were good at diplomacy. “We're not afraid of working hard, because this is our life. It's the way things are.”

“Shouldn't I be the judge of that?” Your eyes widened, and you gulped with difficulty, predicting the direction this conversation was taking. “Tell me, beautiful blossom,” he began, and your gasped at the nickname he had given you, feeling the air leave your lungs, “don't you deserve more than this pitiful excuse of a life?”

“There's nothing pitiful in the love of a family, my lord.” You knew it could get you in trouble contradicting his statements, but you couldn't help it. The man was not only belittling you but also debasing what you held dear, as though it meant nothing. There was no way you could stand someone like him in your life, let alone become his possession for him to use as he pleased. 

“Eyes so sad,” he observed, coming to a stop and you realized you'd brought the attention of other workers in the field, who were trying hard not to stare at you and him. It was infuriating, but you had to control emotions before him. If you felt sad, that was because of what he intended to force you to do, but it was evident he wasn't listening. “Where is that smile that graced your lips before? I wish to see it.” He gently pushed your face upwards by your chin again, before he took a lock of your hair between his long fingers. You would have withdrawn from his touch but you couldn't move, couldn't stop him, as he lowered his face to yours so close you felt his breath. “I wish to hear you sing, and I decided I will take you with me.”

His mouth formed a lopsided smile that you perceived to be anything but kind, and you stood there in shock and dread. Your body trembled and your stomach churned with fear, eyes widening at the statement he'd just made without even considering what you wanted. Who were you trying to kid, anyways? As if your opinion would be of importance to him. You couldn't help but wonder if your father had sealed the deal without your knowledge, or if Shokura made the decision overnight.

For most women earning the favor of their lord would have been a blessing, but to you… you would live in a gilded cage, a slave to his whims and desires. You were under no illusions that you'd been born free, but at least you hadn't been conditioned to the boundaries the ladies of nobility had. In a way, you enjoyed a freedom they could only dream of and you expected you'd get to choose your husband but. Alas, that seemed unlikely in your current situation. 

For many women, this would be a golden opportunity to rise the status of their families and give them a better standing, but it was the end of your life as you knew it. Had it always been wishful thinking? Were you being selfish? Perhaps, but you'd been caught off guard unable to ascertain your actions. Even if you were willing to try and see if love could blossom in time, it would be futile. To him, you would be nothing when you're only one among many others. You would be just a toy for him play with until he grew bored.

So you fell to your knees, before his feet. “Don't take me away, please. I beg you,” you sobbed as he gazed at you without even batting an eyelash, unaffected by your pleas. “What beauty is there to behold in me, a lowly servant? I'm a simple sharecropper. What can I possibly offer that others can't give you tenfold? I have a family that depends on me, siblings that need me… I can't leave them on their own.”

“You're even more beautiful when you cry, flower child.” You gasped as you touched your damp cheeks, feeling hopeless by the moment for his evident lack of concern at your grief. “But when your body is bathed in lotus petals and dressed in silk, when your hair is scented with cinnamon and sandalwood, there will be no time for tears.”

He would not listen. He did not care! No matter what you said, he wanted to take you against you will.

“Please, have mercy,” you pleaded to him, sight blurred with tears you couldn't stop anymore. “Please, my lord. I will do as you say. I just beg you to give me time to say goodbye. I'll come willingly to you, then, I swear.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider your offer, and your hope grew just a little when he nodded. “Very well. By the beginning of the new moon, then, you shall leave your home. No more, no less. I am being generous in allowing you to stay with your family, for now. But I'm warning you, if you try to fool and escape me you'll regret it." 

You kowtowed and thanked him, even though your heart was falling to pieces knowing there was no escape from this man. When the first drops of rain started to fall, you realized he was leaving the fields much to your relief. An older woman approached to help you, and asked you if were alright but you paid no mind. Despite your sadness, the only solace you had was that at least the god of thunder seemed to be listening, since Shokura had agreed to let you stay with you family for some time.

Running back to the village, you didn't waste more time in paying a visit to his shrine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hope you enjoyed c: I'll try to post more soon, but please be patient with me ;A; thanks for the kudos and the comments, everyone!


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